The Twisted Instruments: City of Strength
by SoccerDancer63
Summary: Have you ever felt different from everyone? Clary Fairchild KNOWS she is. She has lived, traveled & hunted demons on her own for three years and only contacts her mother once a month. When her mom is captured & she is forced to find her & the antidote to save her, how will she handle meeting the boy her dad raised down the street for the first 5 years of her life? Full sum. inside!
1. Chapter 1

The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones (Twist)/City of Strength

**Full Summary: Have you ever felt different from everyone else? Like you didn't belong? Clary Fairchild knows this. Not only is she abnormal in the mundane world, but also in the Shadow World because of her extra angel blood. As a result of her father's experiments, of course. This same man raises Clary through her first five years of life, but she soon returns to her mother. When she is fourteen, though, she must survive on her own and only contact her mom once or twice every month. Three years after this began, Clary's mom is captured by her father, and Clary must search for her mom alone (with the mundane Simon). Along this journey, Clary meets a boy she only heard about in her early childhood, realizes she is more than what she thought, and reunites with a brother she thought she would never see again.**

**Hey, guys! I just wrote this and thought I would share Lots of love and I hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Prologue

I always attempted to fit in. I never actually tried to do what I did; in fact, it was quite the opposite. Nevertheless, I always stood out like a sore thumb. No matter how hard I tried to lose or to fail or even be average, it just wasn't a possibility for me. I was always the golden child; the angel. The girl who was expected to be everything and anything; perfect in every way possible.

But I wasn't.

No matter what people said, I still made mistakes. I was vulnerable, self-conscious, and I had issues. I still cried when my pets died; I cried during movies. I was just like everyone else, or at least, I wanted to be. I desired for the life that everyone assumed I had, but didn't. I wanted to live in an apartment or house for longer than a few days; I wanted to have a best friend that wasn't long distance. I wanted a family and true love, just like every other teenage girl in the world wanted! I wanted... to be normal.

But I have never been normal or ordinary. From the second I was conceived, I was destined to be a shadow-hunter (a demon hunter). And not just any kind of shadow-hunter, either: no, I was more angel than other shadow-hunters. Even in the abnormal world I was different. Most shadow-hunters simply had the ability to read and draw runes onto their skin for enhancements that only we were able to stand, but I had the talent to create new runes. Usually, only angels had that power. But I was an exception and my father fought for me because of that.

When I was born, my mother was too afraid to look into my eyes. She thought that I would be just like my brother, Jonathan, who had demon blood in him and was slowly losing humanity every day. After my first couple of months of birth, the great battle with the Clave occurred. Lives were lost, and betrayal was realized as my father found my mother had went behind his back and created a plan to destroy his evil accomplishments. My mom had immediately rushed back to her home after the incident, but the damage had already been done: her parents, Valentine, Jonathan, and my bones were all found in the fire of her childhood home. But they weren't ours. Sure, Valentine (my dad) had coldly burned my grandparents, but never his children or himself. He had burned Michael Wayland, his son, and a random mundane child.

Once everyone believed us to be dead, Valentine took my brother and me to the Wayland country estate and let us live in an abandoned house down the road. Half the time, he was with Jonathan and myself. But the other half, he was with his adopted son who had an abnormal amount of angel blood in him, like me. He hadn't a clue that Valentine had another set of children hiding around the corner, or that he wasn't even his true father. Valentine had once mentioned to me that he was Jonathan's counter; they had the same names, strengths, and treatment. However, the adoptive boy preferred Jace over anything you called him. Or, at least, that's what Valentine told me.

At one point, when I was extremely young (perhaps five or six), I grew tired of the facades. Valentine continued to switch back and forth between Jonathan, 'Jace,' and myself, as he were test-tasting each of us on miniature sticks. I hated how Valentine got to pick and choose, and I decided one day that was what I would do as well. I made sure not to tell Jonathan because he would surely inform Valentine, considering he was Valentine's pet. However, I did use some of the skills Valentine had taught me to plan my escape. I created a portal rune and learned all the tricks that came with portals. Once that commenced, I chose an afternoon where Valentine was away and Jonathan was practicing downstairs to make my grand escape. I thought of the picture Valentine kept on our bedside table of Mom, and stepped through.

I ended up in her arms while she was painting. When I landed in front of her, I thought she might have had a mini heart-attack. Once I explained everything to her, though, and about how I was more angel rather than demon, she seemed relieved. But not so much when she found out about Jonathan and Valentine. But she told me later she was glad I hadn't stayed with Valentine; that the good in me was far greater than Valentine could have thought or he would have expected this. She certainly didn't.

I believe it was my first day of kindergarten that my mother soon realized we were going to have problems. She had taken me to a Baptist School that was highly recommended by everyone in the area. I remember that day disturbingly well for some reason. There was chill in the morning air as Mom had walked me up to the sloping hill on the gravely path to the door. Just as we reached threshold, in fact, rain began to pour like God was having a full on crying session. Mom and a plump lady had ushered me through the building (away from the rain) until I reached the play room that was filled with several children my age. Bright colors aligned the well-sized room, as well as an endless abundance of crosses. Examining the room, I gave a wild grin when my favorite toy, a "Pirates of the Caribbean" sword, caught my eye. I glanced behind me, towards my mother, as if to ask for consent, in which she nodded to. And then, I was in my own world with the many children surrounding me.

I had just finished my fruit yogurt during the arranged snack time when the first instance occurred. With a satisfied stomach and the taste of granola rolling on my taste buds, I wearily stood to throw away my trash. As I walked sluggishly to the small trash can in the corner of the room, I felt eyes on the back of my head. I thought perhaps it was a demon of some sort. Whipping my head around quickly, though, I saw that the same chubby woman who had led me to the room was standing behind all the children devouring their food and smiling approvingly at me. Shrugging the instance off indifferently, I proceeded to dispose my empty yogurt container into the trash can and head to the window seat to look at the beautiful garden outside.

There was a vibrant look to the lush green land, no matter how hard the rain pounded down. The small yet gorgeous space was filled with patches upon patches of perfectly trimmed and healthy grass, along with endless rows of lilies and roses. A cobblestone pathway led to the back door that lay at my right, and a miniature pond lay just under the window I gazed out of, filled with clear blue water and lily pads. Yes, the sight was quite breathtaking, all in all. Especially the tiny fairies that danced lightly across the dampened soil, singing cheerfully through the dreary rain.

Amazed, I pressed my face against the glass to make sure that I truly was seeing what I thought and not just some trick of the eye. The fact seemed that I was not incorrect, though. With absolute clarity, I knew for certain that there were pint-sized fairies dancing outside, and I simply couldn't believe the fact. I mean, of course I had studied fairies for years and Valentine had told me countless tales about them, but I had never see one in person. But there they were, singing and skipping right in front of me.

Excited, I whipped my body around and jumped off my seat to run and tell the plump teacher the news. Reaching her in a matter of seconds, I immediately began to explain to her my sightings of the fairies in the courtyard. However dire my information was, though, the caretaker simply shushed me and told me to play with some of toys or interact with some other children while she talked to someone important on the phone. But how could I when I had just had my first sighting of fairies? You're absolutely correct: I simply couldn't!

Inevitably, I ended pestering the woman until she finally hung up the phone and stared me down with a doubtless anger. I probably should have been terrified by that point and just dropped the subject, but I was far too stubborn for that. Instead, I continued to inform the teacher of the fairies that were just outside. That were probably just a couple of feet away! But she just stared me down for the rest of the day and had a talk with Mom after school was over.

After a couple of weeks, I suppose I should have let the supposed sighting go just as every other child did, but I refused. I knew for a fact what I had seen, and every time I opened my mouth, the subject was those fairies. You see, I assumed everyone knew of fairies. I thought that it was just as Valentine had told me in Idris: everyone could see the Shadow World. Nonetheless, that wasn't the case. After a while, I believe everyone was quite worried about my state of mind, and that's when Mom couldn't let us endure that anymore. Mom had us pack and move, and without my friends I had made and the house I'd spent the first part of my childhood in, I stopped the talk of the fairies. There was also the fact that Mom had told me that I was surrounded by mundanes who couldn't see what I saw nor did they believe in those types of things.

The next instance was in second grade. By this time, Mom and I had moved from Connecticut to New York because of the kindergarten instance. One could say she wasn't hesitant at all when it came to moving; it was the secret telling and lying that really got her. However, I am very grateful to her for this fact because if we hadn't moved to New York, I wouldn't have met Simon.

I had the pleasure of meeting Simon when I was six, when we were placed in all of the same classes. I have to say, we'd always been a perfect duo. My carrot-colored hair matched his nerdy glasses, and my lack of height balanced his abundance of it. We were perfect together; we had never fought or even bickered over something other than playful banters. Even after I moved that year, we didn't lose touch. Every night, before we went to bed, we would either email or talk on the phone to each other for an hour or two secretly. As we got older, we received cell phones in which we could text, call, and FaceTime without the hassle.

Anyways, when I was about eight and in second grade, I did something awful. Terrible. Unforgivable. The action was probably the worst choice I could have made, given the situation I was in. I have to admit before I go any farther that I, to this day, still think that what I did was partially right. And in some ways, I suppose it was. I saved my best friend and fellow classmates, but I made life for my mother and myself almost into death. In fact, we would probably still be living in New York if it hadn't been for me.

The day had begun fairly normal. I had woken at the same time I always did; I worn the same baggy jeans and t-shirt combination that I favored over every other piece of my clothing. However, that day ended much differently than it had started. By the time sunset had come, I was bidding my goodbyes to Simon and making arrangements to keep in touch with him. I remember looking into his eyes and being astonished by the emotions I saw in their depths. He never even had to say the words-they were more meaningful without it being said anyway. He told me, "Thank you." And that phrase meant so much more than just two words that day.

Simon and I had been attached at the hip by that point for about two years; we were inseparable. And that being said, it was quite obvious that I chose Simon to be on my dodge-ball team first, even though he was the most nonathletic person I had ever known. Everyone had made jokes about how bias I was when I was a team captain for sports, but I never minded their playful fun. Those children may have been my friends, but Simon was my first and would always be my last friend. My best friend.

After the class had been evenly divided into two teams, the game began. At first, all was well. One of the new transfers to my school, Thomas, was a bit unnerving and cold, but I assumed that was because he was shy about being in a new school with people he didn't know. After all, that was all he ever truly did; he continued to isolate himself from everyone else as if he didn't even want friends. And that consistency was not broken while we played dodge-ball. He stood in the farthest corner of the gym, dodging away from balls when they came near and, otherwise, not participating.

About midway through the class, our gym teacher had to go out into the hall to converse with another teacher about some 'adult' business. We were one of his most trustworthy classes, though, so he allowed us to continue our game. Anyway, the room was filled with a bunch of children, right? What could go wrong? I can answer that question: everything. Everything can go wrong.

The instant the teacher left the huge gymnasium, there was complete havoc in my mind. Thomas had appeared in front of one of my peers in a time span of a second; he had opened his mouth to an impossible size and his teeth had become sharp as razors. And his voice-his awful voice-was similar to the sound nails scraping across a chalk board: loud, screeching, and efficiently unpleasant. The horrid voice filled the entire room, inevitably forcing me to wonder how the entire school couldn't hear the terrible groans erupting from Thomas' mouth. In fact, the scream was so incredibly terrible that I automatically dropped to my knees in pure pain with my hands covering my ears.

In that one second, I was incredibly weak and dependent.

I was absolutely terrified that we were all going to die (or at the very least, go death from the noise). It was obvious Thomas was a demon; there was no doubt about that fact. However, Valentine had never really taught me anything about actually battling any type of demon; he usually left that to Jonathan. I was assigned the reading and intellectual parts of demon hunting, but never the combat. I suppose Valentine could be a bit sexist when he wanted, but I never truly minded. Until then.

The next second, I wasn't anything but strong and entirely confident in myself. I didn't even feel I was near anyone else anymore.

Of course I was still physically near my peers, but my mind was racing through my studies. Weaknesses of different demons; strategies of combat and murder. My duty was to kill that monstrosity of a creature, and keep everyone else safe. Especially Simon, who I had noticed was being unknowingly cornered by Thomas at that moment. I glanced frantically behind me to find the young girl Thomas had originally targeted, but she was either unconscious or dead. And I left her for death to go help Simon.

As I rushed across the golden floorboards to my friend, I looked around the room for a weapon. Shaking my head, I could only find a few scooters and dodge-balls lining the plain walls. However, I didn't have the time or patience to search for something in the storage closet, so I decided I would just have to use my hands. After all, what kind of demon hunter uses a scooter to kill? However, I would later learn everything and anything could be a weapon. Valentine hadn't mentioned that. Nevertheless, I was sure at the time that I could do a better job weaponless than I would with the objects available in close vicinity. Faintly, in the back of my mind, I heard other children complaining that I was crossing the line that marked their team's side of the court, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Sweat had began to drip down the back of my neck from my effort and nerves as I attempted to come up with a strategy to murder the demon. But what did I know? I'd never had any physical lessons on this or anything; I wasn't even sure if I knew how to throw a punch correctly! Without breaking my thumb, that is.

And somehow, with that being said, I marched right up to the demon/Thomas and did what I was I made to do: kill evil.

I recall very clearly taking my right hand, the stronger of my two, and balling the tiny limb up for what it was worth. There had been no time for preparation or anything similar to that; I simply punched him squarely in the jaw. That move stunned him, to say the least, but not for long. Thomas' screaming increased, forcing my eardrums to bleed with unearthly pain; persistent, though, I did not waver in the slightest. Setting my mouth into a grim line, I reached around the taller boy's neck in an attempt to snap the vile bone, but he realized my motives and his hand shot out like snake. Capturing my wrist in a hold that was deadlier and stronger that any mundane eight-year old could have possessed, Thomas continued to twist the fragile body part until there was a sharp crackling. Caught in his iron-like hold, I had no training, and no one could even see him attacking me, for goodness sake! There was nothing I could do to stop him for injuring and possibly killing me, as well every other mundane child.

Alas, I was not every mundane child.

As soon as he relaxed his grip, even in the smallest way, I yanked my hand back from his, clutching the injury to my chest as if to protect the rest of myself from being hurt any further. I then decided that my best bet would probably be to expose the body to sunlight. I had no idea which lesson of Valentine's I had received that information from, but I was definitely grateful for it. Using this bit of knowledge in my master strategy, I faintly recalled that the gym had a huge skylight that shown just above myself, Thomas, and Simon. The thin glass had been darkened so that the sun didn't show very well to avoid sunburns and such; just the demon's luck, but not for long. I snatched the closest object to me in a fit of recklessness and desperation, slinging the light mass (a random dodge-ball that had been resting near my feet) toward the faint, shaded sunlight drifting through the glass.

In a strangely beautiful and unique cascade, the shards of murky glass flew down from above, forcing the inevitable stream of sunlight to protrude out of the jagged hole in the ceiling. I had whipped my head around anxiously to see if the demon truly was terrified of the light, and I was rewarded with a magnificent sight of the demon curling in on itself and disappearing almost instantly. My face obviously lit up in a bright smile-I had just saved everyones' lives-but I soon found my relief to be short lived. Standing behind me, with his arms folded over his chest and a highly disapproving frown planted on his face, was none other than my gym teacher. I glanced around nervously, realizing that several of my peers had been cut by the falling window, and all the children were staring at me as if I were insane. For all they knew, I was.

After that, there was a quite a lot of questioning as to whether I was insane or not-of course that's how I seemed to mundanes. By miracle, though, Mom managed to convince everyone the entire incident was an enormous misunderstanding. Later that day, around four or five, Mom and I were packing up our old apartment and preparing to move for the second time. Simon lived in the next door apartment, so we said our goodbyes in person and devised a plan to stay in touch. Every night, we vowed to sneak in at least an hour or two talking, emailing,or (later on) FaceTime or texting. We were always together, even though most of the time we were literally on separate sides of the earth.

Once we left, Mom explained that she had never seen a shadow-hunter at that young of an age, without training, nonetheless, battle a demon with such intelligence. I told her it was all due to my endless studying brought upon by Valentine, not that I enjoyed giving Valentine any credit. Mom didn't like that, either, but she did promise that with that much knowledge should also come some strength. From that point on, we practiced every day. I improved at rapid speed, so much so I believed Jonathan and I were equal. I wasn't one of the best in the world; I was the best.

Over the next few years, I found that since I had gotten so much publicity over my different sightings with demons when I was young, Mom and I were more easy to track down by Valentine's minions. In an effort to protect me, she taught me how to fight without any assistance from a fellow shadow-hunter and took me out with her demon hunting. In fact, I was taught even rougher than most, Mom explained to me. Almost every day (up until I was about fourteen) we would face off a strong and powerful demon. We had to constantly move around in an effort to stop their attacks. They could never take us, though: we were invincible. This also had to do with the fact that as I dug deeper into the Shadow World, I found that I could create new runes, as well as old ones that had not been written down. I had a theory that an angel in Heaven would send me my runes, as well as information I needed, but I couldn't be sure. It simply a theory.

When I was just turning fourteen, Mom sent me to the London Institute. Without her. She told me the action broke her heart-I believed her-but she was positive that if I were away from her I wouldn't have as many attacks to face. I hated both the cause and the effect. I still fought demons in London when they found me, but I soon found my life dry without a demon every night. I was so used to the routine, an entire day without demons felt wrong. Inevitably, I began to search demons out and kill them. Of course I never told Mom, but then again, she never really asked. Now, Simon, on the other hand did-all the time, actually-so I told him. Everything. And he was always supportive, always there for me. He truly was my best friend.

As time went on, I moved on with it. By the time I turned seventeen, I was pro at the entire routine. I traveled around the world, going from France to China to Germany (I learned the languages as I went). I never bought plane tickets; I simply created a portal and went to my desired destination. I also went straight to an institute-always-so I wouldn't have to worry about paying rent. I would often lie, pretending I was some other registered shadow-hunter so Mom wouldn't be questioned or found. After all, for all the Clave knew, I was nonexistent.

And let's face it-the Clave knows absolutely nothing.

**Hey, people, you like the ending? Well, it get better! So, read the next chapter and find out what lays in store for you! XOXO- SoccerDancer63**


	2. Pandemonium

**Hi, friends! I don't think I'll be updating my old stories anymore considering Twilight now seems overrated compared to TMI. :D Anyways, this is a story I am hoping to finish this time around, and I am already very proud of it! Please, if you have ANY comments or suggestions on how to make this narrative better, be my guest. I love comments and constructive criticism. Love you all, and I hope you enjoy my writing! 3**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns all of the Mortal Instruments, and I own a dog. :)**

Chapter One: Pandemonium

The warm breeze of sunlight softened my skin as I passed an open window, striding down the long hall leading to the Institute of Paris' library, craving a new drawing book. Hopefully, Paris would live up its name that stated there was a large history of art here. Reaching the end of the long and winding hallway, I continued past the door and into the huge book space. Every inch of the room, from the floor to the ceiling, was simply covered with bookcases. Organized neatly by the caretaker of this institute, Agace, on the far left of each shelf lay the name of the genre of books that section held. My lips were forced into a light grin as I thought of how feminine yet lethal that woman could be; she was comical.

Walking over to the bookshelf that held all the artistic booklets, I felt my toe trip over the giant rug in the room. Nonetheless, my shadow-hunter reflexes prevented me from falling, and I regained my balance easily. Getting back on track, I traced my fingers down the thin spines of the books until I came across one I hadn't read. Yanking the wide, smooth object out of its place, I turned back around to head to my room to begin the hopefully new techniques this guide would teach me.

However, my master plan was interrupted when I heard, as well as felt, a familiar buzzing in my back jean pocket. Yanking the phone out carelessly, I found the collar I.D. blinking Mom, so I immediately yanked the phone to my ear after I pressed the accept button. Mom hardly ever called except perhaps once or twice every month to check up on me (she didn't want our cell-phones to be linked easily by demons who worked for Valentine).

And Mom had already called three times this month.

"Mom? Is everything alright? What's going on?" I knew automatically something had gone wrong, not only by the phone call, but by the background noises filling her end of the line. There were awful snarls and inhuman growls near her location, inevitably stating the fact that she was more than likely in a battle with demons.

"Clary, Valentine's sent too many powerful demons this time. He's done this before, but this time I wasn't prepared. I was-busy. The only thing I can do is to take the potion from The Book of White that-"

"Mom! You can't take it! You might die if I can't find you or Madeline in time! Please, just wait a minute and I'll-"

"No, Clary. You cannot try to find where I am. You can't save me right now; save me later with the antidote, alright? Find either Luke or Madeline, and I promise they will help you. I love you-" the line was then abruptly cut off by a scratching and tearing noise I recognized as a door being broken open. The line had been broken off by Mom's phone being dropped and probably crushed.

My breath was gone; I was at a loss for words.

I couldn't think straight; I couldn't comprehend my predicament. How would I save her? Who would help me? Mom was gone. Luke, my dad for all intents and purposes, was who even knew where. I didn't even know Madeline well enough to guess where she was at the moment. And I was stuck in Paris, in a library the size of an entire house.

I only had one other person in my life that I knew immediately where to find, which would be Simon Lewis, my best friend.

Dropping the dead and now meaningless weight of the book that had once preoccupied my left hand, I rushed to my 'bedroom,' grabbing my duffel bag that I carried with me wherever I went. I began to stuff my weapons, clothes, and stacks of money that I had been paid for killing demons these past six months at the Institute of Paris. Stuffing my razors, extra knives, and seraph blades into belt loops as well as places created in my custom-made black combat boots, I swung my duffel over my shoulder. Writing a quick note to Agace that explained vaguely that family issues had occurred and I simply had to leave, I readied my stele against the nearest wall and envisioned Simon's cozy bedroom. It was filled with nerdy posters and scattered movies across the white carpet, as well as empty sodas and pizza boxes. Classic Simon, I thought to myself as I successfully created the portal and stepped through.

Landing in a pile of trash, I lost my footing and caught myself just before I landed on my butt. Scowling, but still incredibly urgent and worried, I hurried through the house searching for was a Saturday, which obviously meant that Simon would be at home playing video games, as the nerd he was, while his mom was at work. And I was right: he was sprawled out on the living room couch tapping his thumbs away at Call of Duty.

"Simon," I whispered, enjoying the way his head jerked in surprise when he heard someone speak. But when he saw it was me, he immediately dropped the controller and stared in disbelief.

Chuckling, I teased, "What's wrong, Simon? Never seen a girl before?"

"Yeah, I have, I just haven't seen one like my best friend in person for almost ten years! How and why are you here? I mean, of course I love that you're here and all, but you haven't come before and last night you didn't-"

"Simon, shut up for a minute," I ordered him while we both raced over to each other and held on for dear life. Alas, he was right: I was here for a reason. "Simon, my mom's gone, and I have no idea where she or Luke might be."

"What? How?" Simon exclaimed in shock, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose just as Luke used to. Discarding the random thought, I explained to Simon my mom's situation, the potion, and The Book of White's cure for it.

"I know exactly where The Book of White is, that part's easy. I just need to find Madeline, my mom's most trusted friend, and she'll lead me to a warlock who can make the antidote in exchange for the book. The hard part is that I don't have a clue where my mom is to give her the antidote."

"Well, we could always try tracking her cell phone on her plan-"

"Not exactly. She broke her phone when she dropped it, disabling it completely."

"You could try to-"

"Nope. Too risky."

"What about a-"

"No way; can you imagine anyone willing to do that other than myself and you? Which, I might add, we need both of those people to actually execute a plan."

"Well, alright, let's-"

"Look, Simon, use some common sense: Valentine has my mom, right?" Simon nodded obediently."So my mom is with him, correct? Good. Well, every demon I have ever killed by myself, without my mom, has tried to win back his life for Valentine's location. So, if I go and kill a demon tonight, I can get information and have fun while doing it," I explained to him, smiling at his confused expression.

"If you already knew how to find your mom, why did you need me?" he asked questionably, clearly attempting to understand my greater plan. Oh, silly Simon. No one could do that; let's face it, I was insane.

"First of all, I needed moral support so I don't crack doing this by myself. And secondly, I need you to show me the hot spots in the town. That's where demons hang out, to lure their prey."

"WHAT?!" Simon yelled in shock, showing his obvious horror by making such a face I burst out laughing. "Clary, there is no way I'm going to a club so you can demon hunt."

I learned something through the experience. I honestly think I did. I mean, I've never had to deal with a problem such as the one that faced me in that moment in my entire existence, and, let me tell you, I never wanted to again. It was simply awful, terrible-perhaps unbearable.

Waiting.

I hadn't truly ever had to wait for something since I was a child almost ten years before. Sure, I might have had to wait for a demon opportunity many of times, but it was never too terribly long. Or I may have had to wait through the day for night to come before I could have any real adventure. However, with that being said, I had never had to wait in a line full of mundanes to go inside a noisy club and kill demons. Until that night, it seemed.

I would have already been inside the pulsing building if I didn't have such unfortunate choices in friends. Nonetheless, I could never leave Simon. I would have lost much more time looking for the hot-spot in Brooklyn without him, and besides, he was my best friend. I could have glamored myself with a rune and left him to wait in the crowd while I did my business, but what kind of friend would I be if I didn't stay with him?

But I never said I continued to wait in that blasted line filled with sweaty and idiotic teenagers.

Swiftly tugging Simon behind me, despite his protests, I strutted into the alleyway and gazed up gratefully at the second story window. Reaching into my convenient pocket, I found my stele and quickly thought of the rune that made my feet so light they would walk on the walls for my willed period of time. Once finished, I started toward the brick monstrosity.

"Clary, what are you doing?" Simon questioned me suspiciously, eying me with precaution.

"I'm going to walk up the wall to that window using the rune I created, pull you behind me, and climb through it. Well, that's the plan, anyway. Hopefully, my foot won't get caught again," I answered lazily, casting a fast smile at Simon over my shoulder.

"Ha, ha. But seriously, you made a rune to walk on walls? How do you think you're going to pull me up with you? I weigh too much for you!" Simon challenged me, hurrying to catch up as I stopped in front of the wall.

"With a strength rune. Isn't funny how I have a rune for your every question?" I joked while simultaneously stepping up the bricks horizontally and grabbing Simon's arm while I walked.

"Clary, what if you drop me right when you get to the top? I mean, I could break my neck and die. Do you really want that, your dear old buddy to pass away at your hand?" Simon tried to play it cool, but I could see how anxious he truly was. The height must actually have been scaring him; he dangled strangely like a doll from my fingertips and his hand quivered violently, which I found weirdly empowering.

"Better mine than someone else's," I answered darkly, thinking of how close my own mother was to death. How close she was, and how far away I was to her.

"What's that supposed to mean? That someone's planning my death?" Simon, Simon, Simon-he never really got the tones or moods in someone's voice. Probably a negative effect from his video game addictions.

Reaching the edge of the window sill, I gripped the ledge tightly with one hand. With my other, I used all the strength in my body to swing Simon up and through the large open window. Once he landed with a light thud and the sound of something metallic clanging reached my ears, I hurriedly yanked myself the rest the way up through the enclosed opening and leaped through the air, landing lightly on my feet. Glancing around, I found that we had crept onto a barren platform. It was made of metal-which explained the ringing sounds Simon had caused-and formed a neat square around the enormous room. Colorful strobe lights were the only sign of light, and sweaty, dancing teenagers decorated the entire space below. After examining the entire space, I finally spotted a winding staircase that spiraled down to the floor. Helping Simon up with ease, I lead him in the direction of the dusty steps.

Once we reached the ground floor, the task of finding a demon became even more difficult; I couldn't see a single one. Simon, of course being the understanding person he was, attempted to assist me, but he wasn't any use. The demons would always glamor themselves to mundanes, as well as their weapons, and that would be that. Simon wouldn't be able to tell a hungry demon from a friendly girl flirting with him (which, I might add, Simon never really even noticed when girls were flirting with him). It seemed that I would be on my own for that grueling task.

After about an hour or so of searching, I at last locked eyes with a ferocious demon. His hair was spiked blue and in his hands he held a sharp blade; to mundanes, the blade looked to be rubber. In reality, the item was a dangerous tool ready to carve into someone's skin. However, I had my own toys, and I was confident because I had the element of surprise. No patch of skin except for my basics, such as hands, neck, and face, were shown; he would never realize until it was too late that I was more than what met the eye. With that in mind, I gave a quick explanation to Simon and began to strut toward the demon. The awful creature would surely be in for a rude awakening when we were alone. Nonetheless, I caught sight of the blue-haired demon with a rather beautiful mundane girl that must've had already caught his eye. Ugh. Even more waiting. But, I decided to that if I was patient until the two were alone, I would have my reward. After all, without tiny obstacles, my job would be too simple: I would glamor the girl, earn the information I needed from the demon, and then kill it.

Stalking the two from a distance, I waited until the woman slipped into a secluded room with the man and then made my move. I swiftly danced through the crowd, excitement bubbling through my veins. By the time I reached the edge of the mass, elbows had jabbed my ribs, hands had rudely pushed me around, and I felt immense heat on every inch of my body. But I knew that, without a doubt, what awaited me would be much greater than any of these minuscule, mundane problems. And with that in mind, I felt far stronger and braver than I had all night; despite the fading runes and annoyances of mundanes.

About halfway to the storage door that held the woman and demon, I felt unfamiliar, rough hands grip my tiny wrist. The sudden contact shocked me, and even more so when I found they were strong enough to stop me in my tracks. Twisting around in exasperation, I readied myself to chew an ignorant boy out and get back to business.

"Look, kid, I don't know who you think you are, but-" I stopped in the middle of my sentence, feeling my entire body tense in dread and surprise. Standing right in front of me, decked out in full shadow-hunter attire with various weapons, was another shadow-hunter.

The boy seemed to be around my age with black hair and blue eyes. He looked to be male version of Maryse Lightwood, which I then assumed this was one of her children immediately. Maryse was one of the few people involved in the Circle that managed to survive, as well as have little punishment, alongside her husband, Robert. Mom had told me all there was to know about the Circle, as well as all the people; there were so few left that even with all my traveling, I had only met one or two. However, Mom had told me the most about Maryse and her little ones. Apparently, all of her kids were incredibly gifted shadow-hunters. This wasn't what had me shaking in boots, though.

On various occasions, I would find myself running into fellow shadow-hunters while demon hunting. Once we were able to assist each other in killing the demon, we would begin introductions and perhaps even have a little small talk while we cleaned ourselves up either at the Institute or their home. I would always have a small list of people I looked extremely similar to and could name myself as at the drop of the hat. My first few years on my own were incredibly difficult, mostly because I was clearly too young to be hunting by myself (or traveling by myself, for that matter). I was forced to lie that my parents were away for some understandable reason, and I was being watched over by a professor while they were gone. Most of the time that worked, too. But now, with a child of the Lightwoods, I wasn't terribly sure I could get out of this one. The Lightwood child could recognize my mother and I's resemblance, and I had no doubts that he was impeccably trained. If it came to battling, I was absolutely positive that he would be difficult to beat, but I knew I could do it. I could beat anyone.

Narrowing my eyes skillfully at the teen, I growled out in a low voice, "What do you want, Lightwood? I'm busy." I normally would have smiled and invited him to come join me with my hunt (I attempted to be charming as I could around other shadow-hunters so they wouldn't question me), but the mission I was on could not be shared with outsiders. And I trusted him about as much as I did the Seelie Queen.

"How do you know my name? And what are you doing following Isabelle?" Lightwood asked harshly, a slight flicker of uncertainty flashing in his eyes. Ah, so he really doesn't know who I am. I would have thought Maryse would have taught her children better.

"I'm not following her; I'm tracking the demon who's probably battling her right now. Which, speaking of..." I trailed off, motioning to the doors fleetingly, attempting to get to my kill and the information I needed.

"Jace will handle it just fine. Now-"

"Jace Wayland?"

"Wow, so he really does have fans and stalkers. Who knew?"

"Shut up. Is it really Jace Wayland or not?"

"Yeah, how many Jace Wayland's do you know?"

"Shut up and come on, I'm going to go help whoever this Isabelle girl is. You can stay here if you like." And with that, I started toward the door with Lightwood on my heels. We reached it quick enough, but when we did, Lightwood insisted he go first. He reasoned that it was so that they wouldn't throw a sword at me, I knew I could dodge it, though. But he insisted.

Once we entered, I found out why he thought I might be killed. As soon as Lightwood stepped through the door, there was a dagger in the wall beside his head. But I wasn't all that impressed; if I had thrown that knife, it would have hit the target.

"Alec, by the Angel, where have you been? When we told you to get out more, we didn't mean during a hunt! We had no idea if you had gotten captured by more of them, or if..." A young woman who was the spitting image of Maryse rambled while holding a demon with a whip quite like a dog and a leash. Her long black hair fell around her hips, and her brown eyes sparkled with strong concern and disapproval (if I had seen her face before, I defiantly would have known she was Maryse's; they looked like twins). But despite the fact that she seemed so worried and disappointed in Alec, I understood that she was just looking out for him. Just like we all were, us shadow-hunters. We all had someone out there who we feared for everyday because we didn't know if we would see them the next day or not. So I understood her ranting and concern; that was just what my mom and I did to each other, too.

And even though I understood didn't mean I had time to listen to a huge lecture that would be repeated tomorrow; I had to get to the demon. And then, I proceeded to do something I have never done: I went against my small list of rules when interacting with fellow shadow-hunters. The list was imperative to my survival, of course I knew that, but I simply couldn't risk my mother's life over something so trivial and insignificant. So, knowing this as a fact, I continued to stalk across the room without addressing anyone and arrived directly in front of the demon.

By this time, Isabelle had taken notice of me and was demanding to know who I was. Blocking her voice so that it became a dull buzz in the background, I narrowed my eyes thoughtfully at the Hellion and raised my blade lightly to his neck. Pressing the cold metal directly against his skin, I heard my own voice whisper soft questions of Valentine's location. The blue hair that stuck to his face shifted a bit as the demon let out a huge breath when I mentioned Valentine. He obviously thought he was going to make it out of the battle alive, but apparently wasn't intelligent enough to keep his voice down.

"Valentine? Of course I know where Valentine is! Oh, thank you so much-"

"Don't thank me just yet; tell me where exactly he is." Completely fed up with my facade, I raised my voice and pressed my knife with more force into my opponent's neck. His pulse quickened as a thin ribbon of blood made its way to the surface and rested on his pale skin.

"Oh, yes, yes. Valentine is-"

"Why would you want to know where a dead man is?" Someone (a male, by the sounds of it) crept behind me and plunged his seraph blade into demon's heart before I could attempt to stop it. Sadly, although I was abnormally talented with runes and such, I hadn't inherited any extra-ordinary physical abilities. As a result, I wasn't able to stop the person in time.

Whirling around in absolute anger, I turned to my enemy; I met face-to-face with a slim chest. Tilting my chin up slowly, though, I found the person looked to be none other than Jace Wayland. He had golden locks that curled magnificently at the ends and eyes to match. He was fully clothed in a black shirt, accompanied with combat boots and a leather jacket. His body was covered in the familiar scars and runes that came with being a shadow-hunter, and he held me with a patronizing glare as I studied him. I found that his eyes seemed to shine with a sort of light that lacked in everyone else's. However, looks meant nothing; he had just cost me precious time and information.

"What, exactly, do you believe you are doing? I mean, you did just kill that demon I was questioning and interrupted me. That is incredibly rude of you, for one. And secondly, do you know how much time I'll have to waste to find another one? A day may not seem like a long time, but as a shadow-hunter, you should know how long it really is," I growled out at him, narrowing my eyes. He had the same lion-like walk and quiet arrogance that both Valentine and Jonathon carried with them like a badge. It was unnerving.

"I actually don't know how much time you'll take to find another. Perhaps a decade? It would only take myself, at most, a few hours," Jace purred, watching me with the smallest excitement, probably waiting for me to break down yelling and attacking him. Just like Valentine.

"You are extremely sexist; get that from dear old Daddy? Jonathan did, too, though, so don't worry. After spending your whole life with someone, they just kind of rub off on you." I watched with delight as Jace's eyes became surprised, then dark. He leaped at me with no warning whatsoever and slammed me against the wall, his blade at my throat.

"Listen here, little girl. You don't talk about my family like that without paying for it. You don't ask questions about someone as awful as Valentine without paying for it. So, are you ready to pay?" By this time, he had moved his knife lower, near my stomach. Then, looking straight into my eyes, he drilled the knife in my body.

Sucking in a breath, I felt my mouth fill with the familiar taste of blood and smiled at Jace. "So, I'm not allowed to talk about my own family, Big Brother?"

"I'm an only child, little girl." Jace dug his blade even deeper into my gut, shocking me just a little. I assumed he would have let go by now, but apparently not.

"Are you sure about that? I mean, of course we're not related by blood, but we were raised by the same person. Michael Wayland is what he told you, right? Did he give you that ring with the W on it? Well, my friend, perception is all it takes to change one's life," as I spoke, I reached up to his ring finger and slid the ring the other way. In the flickering light of the room, an M was now placed on Jace's finger.

"I don't know what game you're playing, little girl, but it isn't going to shake me one bit. So, you better just tell us why exactly you were asking about Valentine and stop trying to play mind games," Jace growled down at me, lowering himself so his eyes were level with mine. And, with an effortless yank, Jace removed the blade from my stomach; I proceeded to slide helplessly to the ground, breathing heavily.

Shooting Isabelle and Alec (who were both staring bewildered at Jace and myself) a cold glare, I pulled out my stele and continued to use a powerful iratze to heal myself. Once I finished, I glanced up as there seemed to be a dead silence floating through the air. Studying their shocked faces, I realized they were confused by my rune. Cursing myself, I dismissed their staring and put my stele back in my pocket.

"Well, it has truly been a pleasure meeting all of you, but I really must go. I have a friend waiting outside, and, seeing the time, he's going to have to get home pretty soon; he has a curfew. So... goodbye!" I sprinted for the door quickly, hoping beyond hope that I would be able to make it into the swaying mass and loose the trio. However, I couldn't have a single ounce of luck, could I? Because before I even made it near the door, Jace was already proudly holding me by the arm, and I couldn't seem to escape his hold.

"Not so fast, little girl. I think Hodge might want to see you, just for a minute. It won't take too terribly long, and Alec can find your friend and tell him to go on home. Right, guys?" Jace's eyes glimmered with pride at nothing, it seemed-and that infuriated me. He didn't get to me or Simon or anyone what to do. _He couldn't truly be that amazing of a fighter or whatever to think that, could he? Well, he's certainly not good enough for him to do that to me; I'm a better shadow-hunter than him times a million, _I thought to myself angrily.

"No, I don't think you are right. Because I am going to see who I want to see, and you want to know who that is? No, you don't! And Simon will go on home when he wants to, too! You won't tell him to do anything or go anywhere, and if you do, I will slam punch so hard that no one will be able to inherit that pretty face of yours, Jace Morgentstern," I growled out, yanking my arm out of his grip ferociously. _Wait, had I said Morgenstern? Oh, no; Jace is going to freak out._

**Hey, guys! Hope you liked the ending, and I'll try to update soon as possible. If you find any errors, TELL me! If you find anything absolutely perfect (I don't actually know if you will), TELL me! If you find nothing at all and understand none of my writing, get some help! ;) JK! Remember, though: Me and Jesus wuv you all! P.S. Below are some things you can comment about if you can't think of anything 3**

**-Aren't you just so excited to see what Jace will do in reaction to Clary telling him he's a Morgenstern?**

**-Is Clary's personality TOO different from the book or alright for my version?**

**-Should I stick with following the direction of the book like in this chapter or go my own way?**

**-Did you love or hate this chapter? And what about the prologue?**


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